


Celestial Stamina

by ElenaCee



Series: Devil's Trap [28]
Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Case Fic, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV) Whump, Married Deckerstar, Science Fiction, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-02
Updated: 2019-04-27
Packaged: 2019-11-08 04:13:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17974277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElenaCee/pseuds/ElenaCee
Summary: As the Decker-Morningstar household finds its groove, it’s back to case work for Chloe and Lucifer.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for the long wait between updates. Please note the changed Archive warnings and tags. We're not in fluffy-land anymore. Nobody dies, though.
> 
> As always, thank you so much, new readers and old, for reading, kudo-ing, bookmarking, and commenting on the previous parts of this series.

There was something on her face.

Scrunching up her nose and funnelling her lips, Chloe tried to blow it away.

It stayed where it was.

Still too drowsy to do anything more rigorous than that, she decided to ignore it and just get back to sleep, but the thing on her face continued to tickle her. Finally, untangling one hand from the sheets, she attempted to brush whatever it was away.

It resisted. It was, as she was beginning to realize as her brain came online, a feather. Not a loose, soft down feather, though. A sturdy, firmly anchored pinion that stubbornly refused to be moved.

She forced her vocal cords to engage. “Lucifer.”

There was a pause. Then, “Hmmm?”

She waited.

“Oh,” he said, his voice rough with sleep but his contrition still unmistakable. “Sorry, my love.”

The irritant on her face disappeared amidst a bit of rustling of feathers and bedclothes. In its place, soft lips surrounded by stubble brushed her skin, and she felt Lucifer’s wing settle again, lower down across her body this time, covering her with his angelic warmth.

“I love you,” she whispered, in case there was any doubt, and let’s be real here, there probably was if she knew her Devil, which she did.

The steady breaths next to her paused, then hitched. “I….” He trailed off, and she knew that he was looking for the right words in all the languages he knew that would express how he felt, and she also knew that he would come up short.

For indeed, what language could ever express the sense of incredulity, gratefulness, joy, and, yes, obligation that the Devil felt at the knowledge of being loved?

And how could Chloe, daughter of a cop and an actress, ordinary, human Chloe ever make clear to him, angelic and infernal him, that she didn’t need to hear the right words, or indeed any words, because she knew his heart?

Instead, she said, “It’s okay.”

She again heard his feathers rustle as he adjusted his position next to her. And when his lips brushed hers for the second time, they were no longer surrounded by stubble, and his eyes glowed in the dark.

If it was possible, she loved him even more. Opening her arms for him, she invited him to settle against her so she could cover his face with her hands and let him feel her touch on his true skin for a while.

His hairless head came to rest against her, one arm and one wing draped across her as hot air brushed her chest with his sigh of pleasure.

She stroked his face, feeling him press his lips against her palm as he wordlessly asked her not to stop, and his shoulders hunched a little in a wordless plea for her to place her other hand on his back. So she did, feeling him melt against her with the contact.

As she gently moved her fingers back and forth on his burned skin, she listened to his soft hums, slow and regular with his breathing, as they slowly faded and sleep took him. The soft glow of his eyes had winked out as he closed them; the divine glow of his wings, though, was undiminished.

 

* * *

 

She woke up again to the sound of a familiar muted bump from the next room.

It was light out already, so almost time to get up. Turning her head, she found Lucifer, back to being glamoured, still in bed next to her, snuggled under one of his wings with his face buried against her shoulder and his nose squished to one side, either dozing or actually asleep.

From the hallway outside, the sound of a door opening could be heard, then regular padding sounds, and finally, she could see the door handle descend.

That was strange. Nathaniel would only be able to reach the handle if --

The door opened.

As it swung inwards, their small son was revealed, standing upright, a little wobbly, but gloriously upright.

“Hey, Baby,” Chloe said, overjoyed, sitting up.

The fledgling smiled radiantly, sprouted his silver gray wings, made a somewhat stumbling running lift-off, and fluttered towards the bed.

His plumage still had some dull gray baby down left in it, but clearly, enough pinions had grown in by now to enable him to actually achieve lift, and he cleared the edge of the bed to pile up inelegantly against Lucifer’s wing that covered his broad shoulders as he lay on his side.

Nathaniel giggled, perpetually amused by anything unforeseen that happened to him, almost as if he went through life daring it to surprise him.

The Devil, on the other hand, as ancient as the universe, was rarely surprised by anything. He merely extended one arm from underneath his wing to grab the Nephilim and drag him underneath his feathery cover, effectively muting his giggles with offensive cuddling.

“Lucifer,” Chloe said, reaching out to ruffle his already adorably ruffled curls, “he walked here. He can walk.”

That got Lucifer’s attention. One dark brown eye opened to find her.

“He also flew onto the bed,” she went on.

“Really.” He sat up, extracting their son from under his wing to peer at him. “Is this true? Have you really mastered upright walk and proper flight, Son?”

The fledgling looked at him out of his big blue eyes. “I walked from my room to your door,” he reported.

“On your feet?” Lucifer followed up. “Without using your hands?”

“Yes, Dad.” He reconsidered. “Well, I held onto the wall at one point.”

Lucifer let that slide. “And then you flew here, without climbing onto anything first?”

“Yes, Dad.”

The Devil regarded his son with a proud look. “I’m impressed.”

Nathaniel smiled radiantly. He loved being praised almost as much as his father, to Chloe’s constant amusement.

“Yes,” she chimed in, “I saw you, Birdie. You were absolutely amazing.”

Nathaniel’s smile widened. “Will you get up now? I’m hungry.”

Chloe opened her mouth to introduce her son to the idea of personal boundaries, and how doors where there for a reason, and why one shouldn’t just waltz into a room without knocking. Then she looked at Lucifer, her husband, the actual Devil who had grown up in Heaven where there were no doors, and then lived in Hell where doors were only there to imprison damned souls, and then in his home where there were no doors, either, and she shut her mouth again. If the Devil was struggling with this, then maybe she could cut the Devil’s spawn some slack.

But Lucifer surprised her.

“Since you can now walk and fly,” he said, gently stroking along Nathaniel’s spread wings as he peered intently into his son’s eyes, “you’ll be able to understand a new rule, won’t you?”

Nathaniel looked at him and composed his little features into an expression of utter seriousness, sitting up straight and folding his wings on his back. “Yes, Dad.”

“Right. If a door is closed, it’s closed for a reason.”

“Why?” the fledgling asked immediately.

“That doesn’t concern you. If it’s open, it’s okay to just walk in. But if it’s closed for whatever reason, it’s good manners to ask if you’re allowed to enter before you barge in.”

At that point, Chloe couldn’t help herself. “Wait. Lucifer, you’re actually familiar with the concept of closed doors?”

He grinned at her. “Of course I am. Humans are unnecessarily funny about it, but I know it exists.”

“Then why --”

“Ignoring closed doors is a privilege that can be earned. I earned it millennia ago. Nathaniel will earn it, eventually.”

Her little Birdie had, of course, followed this exchange closely. “How does one earn this privilege, then?” he asked, pre-empting Chloe asking the same, even though she’d have put it a little differently.

At that point, she thought she’d die of the cuteness of her little baby saying these sophisticated phrases in his high, clear voice.

The Devil grinned. “You’ll earn it when you can be certain that whoever’s behind the door will be happy to allow you in. As soon as you’re more likely to be welcomed than to be rebuffed, you’re free to ignore closed doors.”

Nathaniel’s face reflected his intense mental effort.

Chloe could empathize. All this time she’d thought that Lucifer, and indeed all the Celestials she’d met, just ignored doors because they didn’t have a concept of privacy. Turned out that they did have it, they just didn’t think it applied to them. Clearly, she still had a lot to learn about Celestials in general, and about her husband in particular.

And she doubted she was alone in this. Lucifer probably still kept learning new things about the humans he lived with, even after having spent millennia, on and off, in their company.

“But,” Nathaniel said thoughtfully, “you  _ were _ happy to see me just then. So, couldn’t I have just come in like I did after all?”

Chloe grinned to herself. Devil’s son indeed.

“In this particular case, yes,” Lucifer said with more patience than Chloe would have given him credit for. “But we might just as easily have been, shall we say, busy. In which case you would not have been welcome.”

The baby Nephilim put his head to one side. “Why?”

Lucifer opened his mouth, closed it, and looked at Chloe, eyes wide with appeal.

“Oh no,” she said, not even trying to hide her amusement. “He asked you. You tell him.”

He gave her a look. She looked back.  _ Payback’s a bitch. _

He widened his eyes. “But surely, you’ve been through this with your spawn at one point or another. Can’t you just tell him whatever you told her?”

“I could,” she allowed, “but where would be the fun in that?”

He gave her a brilliant smile. “Well played, my Consort.”

She inclined her head. And look at that; she, too, liked being praised.

“Right.” He focused on his son, who put his head to the other side as he returned his father’s look. “Hard as this will be to understand for you, some things are simply beyond your grasp right now. You’d misunderstand them and they would frighten you. And believe me, I had trouble with that concept, too, when I was your age. So, much as I regret it, this is a rule you’ll understand later that I simply have to impose upon you now without any explanation that would satisfy you.”

Chloe bit her lip to suppress any remark how this very thing must have been at the heart of his eons-long conflict with his Father, and how great it was that he apparently now understood where God had been coming from.

“Why?” Nathaniel demanded.

Lucifer put his head to one side, matching the inclination of Nathaniel’s head. “Now you’re just being stubborn. I just told you why.”

Nathaniel smiled a broad smile. “But, why?”

Lucifer sighed gustily, then met Chloe’s eyes in another silent entreaty.

She couldn’t help it - she giggled. By now, Nathaniel was clearly just trying to see how far he could push this like any child would.

But he was dealing with the original rebel. “You’ll get it when you’re old enough,” Lucifer said, gently but firmly. “Right now, a closed door is a door you’ll respect. I’ll tell you when you can ignore them. Deal?”

Nathaniel put his head to the other side. “I can knock on a closed door to see if it’s okay to come in?”

“Of course.”

“And if there’s no reply, I can come in?”

“You can come in if someone inside says ‘come in’ or something to that effect. Otherwise, no.”

Now, their small son’s face assumed an expression of unmistakable cunning. “But if there’s no one behind the door, there will never be a reply, so I could never open that door. No reply should mean it’s okay.”

Lucifer frowned.

“Like, the fridge door,” Nathaniel went on. “It’s always closed, but there’s no one inside who will ever say ‘come in’. Or my closet door. Or how does one get inside a closed, empty car like that? That’s a stupid rule, Dad.”

Chloe stifled her giggles in her pillow.

“You’re not helping, my love,” Lucifer sulked.

She pulled herself together. “Sorry.” Composing her face, she gently stroked down along Nathaniel’s folded wings. “Okay. Here’s the rule. It only applies to this door for now.” She pointed at the master bedroom door. “If it’s closed, it stays closed. You can knock, but if there’s no reply, you don’t open it. Ever. You get that, Birdie?”

The baby Nephilim lowered his head, looking exactly like Trixie did when she was thwarted. Then he brightened. “But what if I’m inside your bedroom when the door’s closed?”

“Stop negotiating,” Lucifer said sternly. “Your mum just outlined the deal, and you know exactly what she means. I’ll expand by promising you that I’ll tell you when you’re old enough to ignore this closed door. Do we have a deal?”

Apparently, Nathaniel was tired of negotiating as well. “Deal!”

And then he launched himself off the bed and flapped out the open door, nearly colliding with the wall opposite as he executed a wobbly banking around the corner. “Come on!” his high, piping voice drifted back to them. “Get up! I’m hungry! Breakfast! The birds are singing!”

Lucifer shook his head and let himself flop back down.

Chloe leaned over to kiss him. “I’m glad one of us got celestial stamina. He’s gonna totally be the death of me when he gets older.”

 

* * *

 

It had been almost a week, and the media hubbub about an indisputable Act of God still had not died down. Videos of the incident, filmed from several angles by those present at the time, had reached millions of hits. Experts had chimed in, determining that nothing about them was fake. Clerical institutions still declined to comment. The US Army had reacted to this smiting of one of their own by submitting everyone involved to Court Martial and by publicly apologizing to the Celestial family.

On social media, all sorts of discussions about faith had broken out; scientists were trying to incorporate this proof of the existence of an all-powerful entity into the context of their respective areas of expertise; religious zealots were shouting their I-told-you-sos into cyberspace, and of course, some people started blaming God for every bad thing that had ever happened to them or the world around them.

At the same time, human nature being what it was, life outside of the Internet seemed to basically go on as usual.

It certainly did in the Decker-Morningstar household. Chloe had just taken care of the breakfast debris and clicked off the TV set in the kitchen when the doorbell rang.

“I’ll get it, Mom,” Trixie shouted, putting the last of her things into her school bag and opening the door. “Hi, Ephraim.”

“Good morning, Trixie,” the Nephilim replied. “How are you?”

As she listened to the two making small talk, Chloe reflected that Ephraim was the only Celestial she knew who actually knew how to act human - or, in light of recent realizations, possibly the only one who chose to act on that knowledge. Then again, he was very young in comparison - only fifty or so -, and he had lived all his life among humans. It probably made all the difference.

“Where’s your brother?” Ephraim asked as Chloe joined them.

Trixie looked up, trying to spot any suspicious bits of blanket or pillows on the shelves. “Not in his room. He’s probably built a nest on top of something. He does that.”

Chloe nodded. “Now that he can fly, he gets onto everything. It’s a miracle nothing’s gotten smashed so far.”

Ephraim gave her a reassuring smile. “I’ll find him.”

“Thank you for watching him. If you need backup, my mother has offered to take over in the afternoon. So has Maze.”

“I’ll manage. And thank you, Chloe, for giving me this opportunity.”

Chloe opened her mouth to reply when she saw a small shape swoop down the stairs, but before she could utter a warning, Nathaniel had already bumped into Ephraim’s back, barely killing his speed in a flutter of wings.

“Oof,” Ephraim said, automatically reaching back to steady the fledgling as he clung to him.

“Uncle Ephraim!” Nathaniel’s high voice came as he climbed up to settle on his shoulder. “Are you watching me today?”

“Yes, you little devil.” Ephraim patiently moved a small wing out of his face. “And technically, I’m your cousin, not your uncle.”

Chloe left them to it, grabbing Trixie’s lunch off the kitchen counter and wondering what was keeping Lucifer, who had yet to re-emerge from the bathroom. “You ready to go, Monkey?” 

Trixie reluctantly tore herself away from the sight of the two Celestials to give her a mournful look. “I suppose it’s too late to say that my tummy aches and I need to stay home, right?”

“Way too late,” Chloe agreed serenely.

Trixie sighed. “It’s not fair. Nathaniel gets to have fun all day, and I get to have that stupid math test.”

“I know, kiddo. Life’s unfair. But, look at it this way: By the time you’re finished with school and earning your own money, Nathaniel will still be dealing with math tests. Besides, Amenadiel gave you some really good pointers yesterday.”

The expression on her daughter’s face told her that this wasn’t much of a consolation right now.

Anyway, time to get going. “Nathaniel,” Chloe said, “come here a minute, please.” She held her arms open.

The fledgling immediately launched himself off Ephraim’s shoulders and into her arms, half jumping and half flying, then clinging to her with arms and legs, and Chloe hoped that they’d be able to do this for a while longer. He was growing as though he was getting paid for it, and eventually he’d be too big for this, but right now, she could still enjoy the feel of his small warm body and the smell of his hair and feathers as she hugged him close.

“Listen, Birdie,” she finally said, “Mommy and Daddy will try to be back in time for dinner tonight. In the meantime, you be good for uncle Ephraim --”

Nathaniel reared back to peer at her. “Technically, he’s my cousin.”

She shook her head. The little smartass. She wondered which side of the family he got that from, considering Trixie wasn’t all that different. “You call Maze your aunt, too,” she pointed out. “Anyway, you be good, and you do as he says. Promise me you’ll do as he says, okay?”

“What if he tells me to do something stupid?”

“He won’t.”

“Make him promise he won’t.”

Ephraim leaned forward and down. “I promise I won’t.”

“See. Now promise you’ll behave and do as Ephraim says.”

Nathaniel primly folded his wings on his back and assumed a solemn expression. “I promise I’ll behave and do as Ephraim says, until you’re back from work today.”

“Good.” They still didn’t know how seriously Nathaniel took his promises and whether his word was his bond like it was for Lucifer, but the fact that he’d negotiated and put a time limit on his promise gave Chloe hope that he’d honor it.

Then Lucifer appeared, flight harnesses for her and Trixie in hand, and off they were for another day of crime fighting.

 

* * *

 

When Chloe and Lucifer strolled into the bullpen a little later, having delivered Trixie to her school and to her fate most unjust, they found Amenadiel in the precinct kitchen, talking to Dan over a case file.

“Brother!” Lucifer greeted him. “What are you doing here? Stealing Dan’s pudding?”

The burly angel treated that with the contempt it deserved. “A little respect, Brother. I’m your colleague now.”

Lucifer’s eyebrows rose. “What?”

Dan nodded. “We’ve just come back from Lieutenant. We’re the new Department for Supernatural Affairs.” He pointed a thumb at Amenadiel and himself, grinning proudly.

“Really? Congratulations!” Chloe smiled. “Well? Where’s the champagne?”

Dan’s grin widened at that. “Lucifer’s really rubbing off on you.”

The Devil opened his mouth to let loose with the inevitable sexual pun, but Amenadiel pre-empted him. “Save it, Luci, we all know what you’re gonna say.”

“And we ain’t got time for it, either,” Dan added. “We’ve got a case. Three, actually.”

“Case? What kind of case?” Chloe asked, curious.

Dan briefly looked down at the folder in his hand. “A mysterious artifact, a temperature anomaly, and a suspected ghost sighting.”

Chloe recognized the first one; that had been the case Olivia had asked her to take a few days ago. But…. “Ghost?” She looked at Lucifer. “Are there ghosts?”

Lucifer shrugged. “Only very rarely, when Azrael sleeps on the job.”

“Most so-called ‘ghosts’ are really extradimensional beings failing to make a proper transition,” Amenadiel added. “They need help getting sorted out, but in the meantime, they can wreak quite some damage, unintentionally.”

“Yeah,” Dan said, looking mock-knowledgeable. “What he said. Anyway, we’re off. Have fun with your murderer of the week, Chloe, Lucifer.”

They strolled off, discussing whose car to take.

“Well,” Lucifer said, “another unexpected career turn for Doctor Canaan.”

Chloe smiled. “I think it’s great. Gives him something worthwhile to do. And Dan needed a boost like that, being a Head of Department. He deserves it.”

“Not even Detective Douche deserves to be partnered with my oaf of a brother.”

She elbowed him.

He grinned back unrepentantly.

“Well, come on, then, partner,” she said, surrendering the point to him despite her better knowledge. “Let’s see what wrongs need righting today.”


	2. Chapter 2

The case - a rich Beverly Hills resident found dead in his home, apparently clubbed to death with a spanner taken from his own workshop - sent Chloe and the Devil on a merry chase interviewing family members and acquaintances. Everyone seemed to have a motive, as Mr. Charles Aston, described as cold-hearted and cynical, had not been very well liked on top of being filthy rich.

In the absence of any clear leads, Lucifer made liberal use of his mojo to reveal the hidden desires of the family members. Surprisingly, no one had particularly been after the old man’s money, even though at first glance almost everyone in the family stood to gain from his death. Among his acquaintances, no one had actually hated the victim enough to off him, and everyone had an alibi for the time of the murder.

Everyone except Therese Whitlow, the cleaning woman. She’d apparently been making a good living from her services but had taken a lot of abuse from Mr. Aston, like everyone else in his circle. By coincidence, she had been behaving strangely according to some witnesses, and she had not been seen again since her boss had been murdered.

“She’s home,” Chloe said, nodding at the lit window of the unassuming single-storey house they had identified as Therese’s residence. “Or at least, the lights are on.”

“Let’s find out.” Lucifer made one of his old world ‘after you’ gestures.

She took point as they slowly circled the house. A subcompact was parked in the car port. Lights were on in just one room, though; everywhere else was dark. “Front door,” she told Lucifer.

The door was locked when Chloe tried it. She pulled out her Glock and nodded at the Devil, wordlessly asking him to do his thing.

He did. The door opened as soon as he touched it; he gave it a push inwards and stepped back, leaving Chloe to take point again with another sweeping gesture.

They proceeded inside. The hallway beyond the front door was dark, prompting Lucifer, who needed no light to see by, to whisper, “Clear.”

Nodding, she switched on her flashlight, pointing it and her sidearm in the direction they were going as they advanced further. Slowly, they made their way along the hallway, checking each dark room as they passed it, like the well-oiled machine they had become over time, until finally, they reached the one room where a light was on.

With one long arm, Lucifer reached over Chloe to push the door open for her as she pointed her weapon inside.

The room was empty. A desk lamp was on, revealing a desk, a sofa, and a row of bookshelves, but no lurking murderers.

“Maybe she’s on the loo?” Lucifer said sotto voce. “Or gone for a walk?”

“No,” Chloe said, distracted by a pattern of scratch marks on the hardwood floor. “This seems familiar.”

“Hmm?” Lucifer followed her glance. “Oh! Well spotted, my love.” He grinned. “Love me a nice secret door.”

This one, though, proved to be a bit more sophisticated than just a bookshelf needing a good push. Chloe tried everything she could think of - pushing here, pulling there, even looking if the triggering mechanism was hidden behind the books, or if some of the books themselves were part of that triggering mechanism.

Finally, Lucifer gave the bookshelf a glare, and there was an audible click.

Chloe gave him a glare of her own. “You could have done this the whole time?” she whispered. “Why did you let me fuck around with everything for so long?”

He shrugged, grinning. “I enjoy watching you work.”

She merely rolled her eyes. Incorrigible, even after all this time. Well, it wasn’t like she hadn’t known what she’d gotten herself into.

The bookshelf turned easily when she tried again this time, revealing a dark, narrow stairway leading down. At the bottom of it, a faint light shone, indicating a corner turn behind the stairway landing.

Chloe considered their options. Moving down this staircase would make whoever took point a well-lit target as soon as they reached the bottom landing. There was no cover down there. The killer had shown how ruthless she was, and Chloe wouldn’t put it past her to have some sort of surveillance system in place and lie in wait. And right now, Lucifer was as vulnerable as she was.

Biting her lip, she looked at her partner. An idea had formed, but it was against the rulebook. You don’t send your untrained partner in harm’s way. Then again, Lucifer was the Devil. He probably was better trained than the best-trained soldier. He’d been defending himself against all sorts of enemies for longer than she could imagine. Also, he could just shift into his hell form, should he get injured.

Lucifer, probably guessing that she was brooding on something, cocked his head. “What?”

“Want to whisk down there and scout out the immediate area around the stairway landing?” she suggested, making it very clear that it was his decision. “Just look, don’t engage, then give me a signal if it’s clear?”

He gave her a wide grin. “It’ll be my pleasure.” Taking a step back, he unfurled his wings and vanished from one second to the next.

She peered down at where the light shone at the bottom of the stairs. And sure enough, as she was looking, the light was blocked by a shape. But instead of the ‘clear’ signal she was hoping for, she heard a surprised yelp from Lucifer and a shout from a woman and, to her horror, the sound of a gunshot.

By then, she was already moving. Gun cocked, she descended the stairs, as fast as possible and as slowly as necessary, until she reached the landing and could peer around the corner into what turned out to be another hallway, dimly light by a single, naked light bulb a few yards away.

There was Lucifer, his back turned towards her, standing still, a little hunched over. But she didn’t have time to think about the implications of his strange posture, for on the other end of the corridor, a tall, robust woman stood, a triumphant grin on her face, weapon held ready, aiming right at them.

Chloe pointed her Glock. “LAPD! Therese Whitlow, you’re under arrest! Freeze!” she yelled. Lucifer was blocking most of the hallway; she didn’t have a shot, but sometimes, a good bluff was all it took.

No joy this time, though. “Catch me, if you can,” Therese smirked over the sights of her handgun and fired again.

Chloe threw herself forward, grabbed Lucifer, and threw them both down onto the floor.

When she had untangled herself to bring her Glock to bear, the corridor was empty of any murderers taking potshots at them, so she reached out to roll Lucifer over from where he had fallen onto his side, but he gave a sharp cry of pain as soon as he was moved, so she stopped.

He curled in on himself more tightly, his hands clutching at his middle.

Her stomach plummeted. He had gotten shot. “Let me see,” she urged him.

His eyes, wild with pain, found hers. “Bloody hell,” he gasped. “That really, really hurts.”

“Lucifer,” she said, fighting back a sense of déjà vu and impending doom. “Honey, let me see.”

Visibly fighting his instincts all the way, he slowly removed his hands, revealing a hole in his dress shirt, slowly getting stained from a sluggishly bleeding wound in his middle.

She catalogued it automatically. Gunshot to the abdomen, no major blood vessels injured, unless he was bleeding internally. Not as damaging as a shot to the chest would be, but still potentially fatal if not treated in time. And certainly painful. Very, very painful.

Staying in automatic mode to avoid thinking too much about it all, she took off her jacket and pressed it against the wound with one hand, her other hand finding and unlocking her phone to call for backup.

There was no dial tone, no signal.

“Dammit.” She put the useless phone into her pants pocket to take in Lucifer’s position, hands pressed against her jacket bunched up against the wound, curled up on his side, breathing raggedly.

That had been a human weapon. He had only been injured because she was close. He would heal from it as soon as she brought some distance between them.

Wait. He could also heal it by shifting into his hell form. He had done it before. “Lucifer, why aren’t you shifting?”

He dragged his eyes open. “Can’t,” he forced out. “Something about this place… feels very strange.”

“Strange? How?”

He panted, then visibly forced himself to breathe normally. “Can’t say.”

“Supernatural?”

He briefly closed his eyes. “Very possibly. It pushed my wings away as well.”

No wings. This place actually kept an archangel from using his wings. The feeling of impending doom intensified.  _ We need to get out of here. _

She took his hand, sticky with his blood. “Can you walk?” she asked, hoping against the evidence of her senses.

His lips twisted into a smile. “That would be… overly optimistic, I’m afraid. I’d rather not try, to be honest.”

_ Dammit.  _ “Time to call in the cavalry, then.” She put her hands together to pray.

“That won’t work,” Lucifer gasped. “Something’s blocking… this place.”

She opened her eyes to find his. “What? How?”

He groaned, his hands going back to the wound in his middle. “Don’t know. I can’t feel anyone. This place is seriously weird.”

“Okay,” she said, trying to sound optimistic. “Down to the two of us then. Not a problem. It’s okay. Just rest.”

Next, explore this place, get some distance between them and hope it’d be far enough for the Devil to regain his invulnerability. She took off her sweater to place it underneath Lucifer’s head. “Will you be okay for a bit? I’m going to take a look around and see if I can find an exit, or at least get a signal. Maybe there’s enough space for me to get out of range. Who knows how far these tunnels go.”

For a moment, his fingers closed about hers, silently pleading with her not to go, but then he nodded. “Of course. Be careful, my love.”

She first tried the secret door they’d come through, but without Lucifer’s help, she couldn’t get the secret door to open from this side. If there was a mechanism to open it, she didn’t find it. Giving up for now, she searched the rest of the basement.

It wasn’t as extensive as she’d hoped. There were three storage rooms full of the usual human paraphernalia. A more thorough investigation would be needed turn up the reason for the elaborate secret door, because Chloe couldn’t find anything out of the ordinary.

She didn’t get a signal anywhere. The only other exit door she could find - the one the perp had probably used to escape - had been locked from the outside, possibly bolted, and it was too thick to be opened by, say, shooting the lock. She tried, nearly deafening herself, but no dice.

Now that she was back here, on the other side of the basement, she realized with a sinking feeling that this wasn’t enough distance from Lucifer. She’d still effect him from here. 

Right. Plan B, then. Let him rest and wait for Dispatch to send in the cavalry as soon they had missed their check-in. She’d gladly take the ribbing about the Devil and his Miracle needing rescuing as long as it got her her Devil alive.

“We’re trapped down here,” she announced when she’d gotten back to her injured partner. “Or at least, I can’t get either door to open.” She knelt down next to him. “How are you doing?”

Even as she asked, she realized that he was in a bad way; pale, clammy, his breathing shallow. “I’ve been better,” he admitted, for once foregoing any of his bravado. “Is she gone?”

“If she’s still here, she must have learned to turn invisible. Barring more secret doors, there’s no hiding places down here.” She settled down, cradling his head in her lap, one leg extended along his back to give some warmth. What else she could do, though?

Try to keep him alive for as long as she could. That meant getting the bullet out, then closing the wound, if possible.

Right.

Fortunately, Lucifer still was in the habit of carrying his flask, and, spirits below a certain percentage of alcohol being beneath his contempt, she could use it to at least disinfect the wound. No forceps or anything, though. Putting on her gloves and doing her best to ignore that she was feeling around  _ inside Lucifer’s body _ , she found the bullet still there, lying deep, but she managed to get it out amidst much cursing from Lucifer, and when she was done, she took a healthy sip from the flask before dousing the wound and passing the flask on to him to watch him gulp down the rest of it.

He had finally stopped cursing and was lying still, breathing fast and shallow through his mouth, clearly in a lot of pain. His pocket square, drenched in alcohol and folded up as small as it could get, was pressed against the wound underneath Chloe’s leather jacket, with Lucifer’s belt holding both in place; not ideal but the best she could think of.

And now, all they could do was wait.

“So, what now?” Lucifer asked after a while, echoing her thoughts.

She settled her hand in his hair to stroke him, hating the fact that she couldn’t do any more for him. “Dispatch will notice we’re missing at some point. They’ll send a car to check on our last known position. They’ll trace my GPS locator to my car, which is parked near this house, and hopefully, they’ll put two and two together.”

Lucifer had closed his eyes at her touch; he was silent for so long that Chloe worried that he might have lost consciousness. But then he spoke. “I wonder what it is about this place,” he said softly without opening his eyes. “Can’t feel my siblings or Dad, can’t shift to my true form, can’t summon my wings. When I flew in here, something just… thrust them away. I can’t explain it.”

“Is it like being inside a Devil’s Trap?”

He lay gasping for a minute, thinking. “No,” he finally said. “That felt more actively damaging. This is just… damping. Muting. Stifling.” He shuddered and hunched up his shoulders the way he did whenever he wrapped his wings around himself.

Chloe, watching him, realized that he must be cold, lying on the bare concrete floor like this; that was why he wanted to unfurl his wings. “I think I saw some movers’ blankets in one of the rooms. I’ll go get ‘em. Don’t go anywhere.”

His pale lips twisted into a smile. “Gallows humor. I like it.”

The blankets, five of them, had been neatly folded into a stack but smelled like they’d been down here a while. Hoping there was no vermin in them, Chloe shook them out rigorously and wrapped them around the Devil, two underneath him to shield him from the cold floor, and three on top. They were thin and coarse, hardly up to anyone’s standards as comforters, but they would provide at least some warmth.

And now, back to waiting and hoping that he’d get better - or at least, not any worse.

After a feeble movement to clutch the blankets closer, Lucifer lay still apart from his shallow breathing, eyes closed, a tense frown on his features. His silence was disturbing, and the biggest tell that he was far from all right.

“Is there anything I can do?” she finally broke the silence.

Lucifer blinked wearily but stayed silent, huddled underneath the totally inadequate cover of blankets.

Well. There was something else they could try, something Chloe was loath to even think about, let alone to suggest, knowing how agonizing it would be for her husband. But he clearly kept losing ground, if there was a chance that he’d -- that he’d just slip away before help could arrive, then they needed to act now, while he was still strong enough to walk.

She noticed that he’d stopped shivering.

Blanking, muting, he’d called it. Not actively damaging, but clearly malignant.

Her eyes fell on her hand and her wedding band. She’d looked at it so often that she could tell immediately that the tiny spark of creation trapped inside the stone, that bit of Lucifer that he’d gifted her with on their wedding day, was dimming.

A part of himself, visibly weakening. Only one conclusion possible. He was dying.

They needed to get out of here, stat. “Lucifer,” she said urgently. “Honey. I need you to get up now.”

No response.

“Lucifer!” She shook him, gently at first, then more insistently.

Finally, he opened his eyes to look at her blankly.

“I need you to get up,” she repeated slowly and clearly. “Get up, Lucifer. On your feet.”

He groaned softly. “Can’t.”

She gritted her teeth. “Yes, you can. You have to. This place is killing you, somehow. We need to get out of here. Come on.”

That seemed to get through to him, because he struggled to roll over and get his legs underneath him.

She took the blankets off him, rolling them up haphazardly, and threaded one arm underneath Lucifer’s from behind to get him into a hold. “Come on. Up.”

He panted. She could feel his whole body shiver with the effort. “Can’t,” he forced out.

“Dammit, Lucifer! You’re the Devil! You survived eons of in-fighting in Hell! You lived through countless disasters! You will get through this one, too! Show me that famous celestial stamina. Up! Now!”

She pulled him as he pushed himself up, and together, they brought him to a wobbly stand.

Fighting to get his breath back, Lucifer pressed both hands against the jacket that was pressed against the wound. Tears of pain were running down his face, but he made no sound, only quick, irregular gasps.

“Okay,” Chloe said, still holding him upright, hoping he wouldn’t pass out, hoping he’d manage the stairs, hoping he wouldn’t die en route, and trying not to think about what would happen to him then. There was no time to speculate about him ending up in Heaven, or Hell, or whatever. “We’re going back up the stairs now. I can’t carry you. You need to walk on your own. One step at a time.”

“Not… my idea of fun.” His lips were pale, he looked like death warmed over, but he had actually managed a quip.

Chloe felt a bit of hope. “Come on.”

There were twelve steps. She managed to get him to climb two of them by pushing him up from behind with each step he took. Then he halted, gasping, and didn’t budge.

“Come on,” she urged him again. “Just ten more.”

He managed another step, barely, groaning in pain as he pulled his other leg up to join his first on the next tread, then he bent over, arms hugging his injured middle, panting like he’d run a marathon.

She held him up as he wavered, feeling him tremble, her earlier optimism evaporating. He wasn’t going to make it. The stairway led up into darkness, away from the single light bulb, and it was looking insurmountable from down here.

And the stone on her ring, instead of casting a warm light, was reduced by now to emitting a mere glimmer.

“Lucifer.” She hugged him from behind. “Think of Trixie. Think of Nathaniel. Think of all that we’ve done together, all we’ve built. Think of our friends, of your siblings. Think of what it would do to all of them if we don’t get out of here. Don’t --” Her voice broke, but she pushed through it. “Don’t let it end here.”

He groaned in agony. Chloe could feel him trembling with exhaustion, but he tried to drag his leg up for another step; not high enough, and he stumbled, fell forward with another groan, crashing hard against the stairs, his head impacting noisily.

Chloe had to let go of him lest she be dragged down with him. She’d never felt this terrible in her life. If these really were Lucifer’s last moments, shouldn’t she have let him rest and die in relative comfort instead of forcing this torment upon him?

“Lucifer!”

Amazingly, he was still conscious. A trail of blood was running down his face, but he wasn’t finished yet. In a feat of stubbornness worthy of the Devil he was, he forced himself back up on his knees and began to crawl up the stairs on hands and knees, panting and groaning, step by agonizing step, blood from the shallow wound in his head dripping steadily onto the treads.

She kept encouraging him, knowing full well that words were all she could offer him right now, knowing that she wouldn’t be able to get him moving again, should he falter.

If the spark of creation in her ring stone was still glowing, it wasn’t visible to the naked eye anymore. Still, Lucifer kept moving, one hand up, one knee up, and pull up his body, and repeat.

Celestial stamina, indeed.

Finally, after a perceived eternity, he reached the top of the stairs, and with a last effort, he did whatever he did to open closed locks, for there was a click. And then he collapsed.

“Yes! Oh, thank you, Dad.” Chloe carefully stepped over her fallen husband to push the door open, then she expended the last of her own strength as she pulled Lucifer through the opening and onto the hardwood floor beyond, and the bookshelf moved back, closing the secret door.

Lucifer coughed, coughed again, and rolled over, just as the stone on Chloe ring regained its brilliant shine. “Bloody hell,” he groaned. “Bloody hell.”

“Lucifer,” she forced out, and then she knelt down next to him and hugged him close, getting his drying blood on her and not minding one bit.

He clung to her, still panting. “Did I just hear you thank my Dad for something  _ I _ did?”

“Yes,” she admitted, just glad to still have him, glad that they were out of this place. “Force of habit. I’m sorry. You were awesome. My beautiful, stubborn Devil. I love you so much.”

“In that case, I forgive you.”

She laughed helplessly, and laughed again when she felt his human glamour disappear underneath her hands and heard his sigh of relief as he healed himself.

Just then, her phone rang. So did Lucifer’s.

They let go of one another to exchange a look. Lucifer fished his phone out of his jacket while Chloe extracted hers from her back pocket.

“Detective Decker, thank God you’re there,” Chloe heard Amy from Dispatch say. “I’ve had worried calls from Espinoza, and when I couldn’t reach you for so long I sent out backup. Are you okay?”

Chloe went on reporting that unit 831 was fine now but had lost the suspect while listening to Lucifer’s one-sided conversation with one ear.

“No, Brother,” he was saying, “I couldn’t tell. Do you think I would just have flown into a bloody vortex if I did? Give me a little credit! … Yes, fine, we’ll wait. … No idea, but we’ll figure it out, right? … Copy that.” He put his phone away.

As he did that, he noticed his red-skinned hand, and promptly shifted back to human form. “Well. That was Amenadiel. Seems our cases are connected, and this -” he nodded at the secret door, indicating the basement beyond - “... is where Amenadan’s ‘ghost’ came through.”


	3. Chapter 3

“Hm,” Amenadiel was saying thoughtfully. “Looks pretty ordinary.”

They were standing at the opened secret door, peering down the stairway and at the shine of light down at the landing.

“Just go on and take a look down there; you’ll change your tune rather quickly,” Lucifer groused. During the brief time it had taken for Dan and Amenadiel to get here, he had shrugged off the effects of his wound and of his stay in the basement, with the exception of the trail of dried blood that still adorned his face. But to Chloe’s experienced eyes, he looked moody, almost affronted. Clearly, the former King of Hell didn’t take kindly to being inconvenienced like that. “I haven’t felt forces like that since before the galaxies formed.”

Dan, who had been looking over Chloe’s shoulder at the ominous doorway, turned to gape at him. “Since before….” He shook himself. “I will  _ never _ get used to that, man.”

Lucifer gave him a tolerant smile. Chloe, who could sympathize, did the same.

“Anyway,” Dan went on. “Let me get this straight. There’s a, what, an interdimensional vortex in that basement down there, and that’s bad news, and also and more importantly, there’s nothing you guys can do about it?”

Amenadiel nodded. “Assuming that we want to leave the earth undamaged. If what Luci describes is true and there really is the exit to an interdimensional vortex down there in that human’s basement --”

“It is true,” Lucifer interjected smoothly.

The two brothers exchanged a look.

Amenadiel gave a small shrug. “... Then this vortex will allow matter and energy from another dimension to pass into ours, and from ours into that other dimension. It’s like a live wire. An umbilical cord, if you will. Only between entire universes.”

“Cut it, and you get a ginormous charge and/or lose a ginormous amount of blood,” Lucifer went on. “And I mean that literally. On a planetary, if not galactic, scale.”

“The only being who could conceivably close it is Father,” Amenadiel added, “but since He clearly knows about it and hasn’t done anything, it’s safe to assume that He won’t.”

Dan made a gesture. “Seriously. What’s the use of having an all-powerful relative if He just stays out of everything?”

Amenadiel opened his mouth to reply, but Lucifer cut him off. “Trust me, Daniel, you don’t want Him to interfere. It usually ends in floods, or meteors, or supernovae. He’s not exactly subtle.”

“Well,” Chloe said, still holding onto Lucifer’s arm because, even if he looked okay now, some part of her was still processing the fact that she had almost lost him and needed the reassurance of his warmth, “what do we do, then? We can’t just leave it like this.”

“We have no choice,” Amenadiel said. “There’s nothing we can do. Besides, it’ll collapse and dissolve eventually.”

“‘Eventually’?” Dan said skeptically. “We talking days, months? What?”

Amenadiel shrugged. “It’s been open for much longer than it should as it is. Impossible to tell.”

Chloe compressed her lips. “That’s all well and good, but meanwhile, we can’t just do nothing! We need to least warn people, evacuate the area,  _ something. _ This thing is obviously malicious. Besides, It’s probably no coincidence that our recent suspect in a violent murder lives in a house with a - a --” she gestured - “Einstein-Rosen-Bridge in its basement.”

There was a pause as the Celestials and her ex gave her a look.

She looked back at each of them in turn. “What?”

Lucifer gave her a brilliant smile. “Miss Lopez would be so proud of you, my love.”

“Yeah,” Dan added. “Wouldn’t have taken you for a Marvel fangirl, Chlo.”

“A what-what girl?” Chloe said, confused. “My dad used to read Science Fiction stories to me when I was small.”

This was met with more stares.

She shrugged. “I do the same for Trixie. Why do you think she wanted to be President of Mars for a while? Anyway, you say we can’t do anything about it. But it clearly sucks energy out of our universe, or Lucifer wouldn’t have been so affected. And what if things from the universe at the other end get through to us?” A thought struck. “Like that ghost from your case, Dan, Amenadiel? You did say something about ghosts being extradimensional beings. Something from another universe would fit that bill, yeah?”

It seemed to be a good time for brainstorming, because Dan put on his thoughtful face. “Could our ghost be your murderer, Chloe?”

She thought about it, then shook her head. “Don’t think so. Therese has got all the documents and a consistent history, and nobody noticed anything off about her.” She frowned. “Until recently, that is.”

Dan nodded, visibly warming to his theory. “An alien consciousness taking over a human and wreaking havoc is a common trope in science fiction. And since we’re clearly living in a fantasy movie right now -” he gave the two celestial beings of their acquaintance a significant look - “I wouldn’t be surprised if something like that was the case here.”

Chloe looked up at Lucifer’s face to gauge his reaction.

The Devil was beaming. “Daniel! I am delighted to find that you’ve got something between your ears that’s good for more than blocking the light from passing into one and out the other.”

Dan’s familiar long-suffering look brightened as he realized that he wasn’t being insulted. “You mean I’m right?”

“Very likely so. Poor Therese was just minding her business in her basement, futzing about with whatever naughty secret she’s hiding behind that secret door, and all of a sudden, that vortex opens under her home, like these pesky things sometimes do.”

Amenadiel nodded. “Only this time, instead of acting normally and collapsing microseconds later, it stabilized, bending reality slightly. I suspect there’s something like ley lines involved. Then it let something pass through, which then proceeded to take over this human.”

“‘Bending reality’?” Dan echoed. “Would that, by any chance, cause funny stuff, like, say, temperature anomalies?”

“Very good, Daniel,” Lucifer said, grinning. “You’re on fire today.”

“You said you had three cases, Dan,” Chloe put in, swept along by this burst of inspiration. “A ghost, and a temperature anomaly. The third was, what, a mysterious artifact?” She looked at Lucifer. “Could that be connected to the vortex as well?”

He sighed. “Humans are so quick to term things ‘mysterious artifacts’. One person’s cult object or proof of life on other planets is another’s prehistoric nightbowl. Or dildo. Or coprolith.”

“That doesn’t mean that this one didn’t originally come through the vortex,” Amenadiel objected.

“What is it, anyway?” Chloe asked, curious.

Dan gestured. “Some sort of staff-scepter-torch-ornament thingie. Turned up three days ago in a shop Downtown. Caused a brawl among customers, apparently. Cops were called and confiscated it. Now it sits in evidence lockup.”

“No one knows its purpose,” Amenadiel added. “It’s not Celestial, or, as far as I can tell, Infernal. It could be extradimensional.” He smiled. “It could also have been crafted by a human high on something.”

Lucifer grinned. “Brother, remember that calabash that this hot guy high on fumes painted some random whirls on that happened to resemble some script or other? Still crops up occasionally in archeology journals?”

_ “You _ read archeology journals?” Amenadiel returned, incredulous.

Lucifer raised a haughty eyebrow. “I enjoy the laughs, yes.”

“Pfft. But yeah, of course I remember that calabash.”

“That was some party.” Lucifer mock fanned himself. “They really knew what to do with mushrooms back in the day.”

“Anyway,” Chloe reined the Devil back in before he could completely embark on his tangent and drag Amenadiel along with him, “what’s next? Find Therese, get whatever is inside of her out, and try to explain this whole thing to the lawyers?”

“First, let’s get out of here,” Lucifer said, rubbing at his forehead and the dried blood sticking to his skin. “I’m in serious need of a shower. We can do our thinking elsewhere.”

 

* * *

Food was a major inconvenience.

The lack of it was weakening. Finding it and taking it up was distracting and time-consuming. Getting rid of its waste always seemed to become unavoidable at the most inconvenient times.

How did these corporeal beings manage to live with all this?

Fortunately, they had easy access to all their current host’s memories, so figuring out the details wasn’t too hard. The one before that, the first host they had entered after leaving their vessel, had not been half as accommodating; much smaller, too, and walking on all fours while being so small had really limited their ability to affect their surroundings. This one, at least, had limbs that could grasp things. And used tools.

Still, as the light and dark periods came and went, they found that they missed their home more and more.

 

* * *

They were greeted by a chorus of “mommy!” and “daddy!” when they finally got back home following a brief pitstop at Lux so Lucifer could get presentable. Ephraim greeted them, looking calm and unruffled despite having spent an entire day in the presence of children; the apartment looked undamaged and unchanged except for a number of sheets of paper with children’s drawings on them spread all over the kitchen counter.

And then, just as Trixie began telling Chloe about her day at school, Nathaniel, currently sat on Lucifer’s knee, started to cry.

He did that so rarely that everyone sat up in alarm.

“What’s wrong, Spawn?” Lucifer asked, looking surprised and uncomfortable.

Instead of answering, the small Nephilim merely shook his head and threw himself into his father’s arms.

Lucifer held him, meeting Chloe’s eyes over the top of their son’s head, his dark eyes sending a silent distress signal.

Chloe looked at Trixie. “Monkey, did something happen?”

“No, Mom,” Trixie said, looking worried and confused. “He was happy when I came home from school, and we’ve just been playing.”

Ephraim nodded in confirmation. “Nothing happened. I mean, there was plenty happening all day, but nothing that would make him cry like that.”

“He looked perfectly normal, then he started doing this as soon as I touched him,” Lucifer added, sounding puzzled.

“Daddy,” Nathaniel sobbed into Lucifer’s shoulder.

“Yes, son, I’m here. Why are you crying?”

There was some disjointed sobbing that might or might not contain words.

Lucifer tried another appeal. “Chloe. You’re more experienced with this sort of thing. Could you try to extract from him what exactly is the source of his --”

“The dark room!” Nathaniel blurted.

_ The dark room? _

A terrible thought came to Chloe. Not too long ago, Nathaniel had been kidnapped. Maybe something had happened then, something the child hadn’t been able to tell them. Linda had agreed that there had been no signs of PTSD after they had gotten Nathaniel back from the military complex, but maybe they had just taken this long to manifest.

She joined them, watching Lucifer hug his son to him. “Was that a room the bad men took you to, Birdie?” she asked gently.

Nathaniel shook his head violently, still clinging to Lucifer. “No! Not me. A bad room.”

A bad room, not bad men. At a loss, she reached out and gently stroked the back of her son’s head.

When she touched him, Nathaniel pulled back and turned to look at her out of wet eyes. “You were there, too. And you were sad. And scared. I’m scared of that room, Mommy.”

“What room, baby?”

“The one with the stairs,” Nathaniel sobbed. “Please, Daddy, please, don’t ever go back there.”

Lucifer’s face assumed a look that told her that inspiration had struck. He gently stroked along his son’s back even though Nathaniel’s wings were currently hidden. “But you weren’t ever in there, right?”

“No,” Nathaniel wailed, “but you were! And you almost died! Mommy knows you almost died, too. I know it’s real.”

“All right.” Lucifer hugged his son to him and rose to better be able to cradle and rock him. “Listen. I really need you to calm down now. You’re ruining Daddy’s suit.”

“Lucifer,” Chloe admonished him half-heartedly.

But he ignored her. “Is this the first time something like this happened? You knowing about something someone else has seen?”

She could see the small head shake no. “I know Trixie took that math test. Uncle Ephraim’s head is full of music. This is the first time it’s terrible.” The small Nephilim sounded calmer now but still choked with tears.

“All right,” Lucifer said again. He closed his eyes, took a breath, and his expression relaxed until his face looked calm and content. “Now. Is this better?”

Nathaniel nodded. “Nice.”

“Good.” He said nothing for a while, just held Nathaniel, eyes closed, while the toddler visibly calmed down.

“Can we go flying for real, Daddy?” he eventually asked.

“Of course. But first, your parents need some time alone. Your mother’s gotten quite a scare today.”

Chloe half expected that to set Nathaniel off again, but her brave son merely nodded. “I understand.”

“Do you?” Lucifer asked, sounding surprised.

More nodding. “You need to show her something nice, too.”

Lucifer grinned and winked at Chloe. “Something like that, yes.”

“Lucifer,” she said again, but her heart wasn’t in it at all this time.

 

* * *

“Did you get all that, my love?” Lucifer asked once they were alone.

Chloe, who had had some time to think during supper and listening to Ephraim recount the day, nodded. “I think so.” She smiled weakly. “Our son’s a telepath.”

“Touch telepath,” Lucifer corrected.

She shook her head. “Dan was right. This is so outrageous. We’re living a fantasy novel.” Lucifer was looking at her with that soft expression he had when he was charmed and fascinated by her, and she realized that he was just living a normal life. To him, none of it was fantastical. Angels, demons, God, the Devil, telepaths, ghosts, shapeshifters, and probably dragons, too - it was all real to Lucifer, had been a part of his life since the beginning. The rest of them were merely still catching up.

“It must be his gift from Dad,” Lucifer mused, shrugging out of his jacket with that effortless elegance he had. “Knowing what people feel and think and see in their minds when he touches them. That’s unique, as far as I know. And quite a power.”

Chloe sat down on her bed, feeling like she needed a moment. “No one will ever be able to keep anything from him, us included. No fibbing, no evading, no white lies, no strategic omission of truth. Only absolute, brutal honesty.”

“As it should be.” Lucifer, whom humanity called the Father of Lies for reasons Chloe had never been able to fathom, bent down to untie his shoelaces, presenting her his trim body profile. “He’s a Nephilim, a fusion of humanity and divinity. Just like Beatrice, who understands both, he is fated to be a mediator between two worlds. Dad gave him a very apt gift indeed.” He straightened, inclined his head to one side, then visibly dismissed his own thoughts. “I find that almost dying is a serious boost to my libido.” Which was followed by one of his trademark leers. “How about you, my love?”

She’d gotten used to the mental whiplash she got trying to keep up with him, but this time, she found that she was still stuck on the day’s events. He had almost died. She had almost lost him. “I’d much rather just hold you for a while, if that’s okay.” Brutal honesty. Might as well get used to it.

His expression softened immediately. “Of course.” Anything for you, he didn’t say out loud, didn’t need to say.

“And you should go flying with Nathaniel tonight,” she added. “He was really scared. Children are very impressionable, and he’s no exception. He saw something horrible he didn’t understand. It’s so important that he learns to put these things he sees in other people’s minds in perspective.”

His eyes, dark and wide, rested on her face without blinking, open and intimate. “All right.”

She realized she was ordering the Devil around again, their deal about compromising favors notwithstanding. Even after all this time, the sheer absurdity of that thought still had a tendency to broadside her.

Before she could backpedal, he said, “Want to join us?”

She really should sleep, the rational part of her mind told her. She had work tomorrow. But - the thought of flying with Lucifer in the warm LA night, while their small son fluttered about them, was irresistible. “I’m tempted,” she admitted.

He gave a sultry purr. “Have a bite, my dear. I promise you won’t be cast out of this paradise.”

 

* * *

It was a magical hour, just before dawn, flying suspended in her harness beneath Lucifer through the cloudless sky, the ocean below and the LA haze left far behind. The Devil soared like an eagle, his majestic white wings spread wide to his sides as he rode the thermals above the warm water, while their small son swooped up and down and in circles around them like a swallow, giggling in delight, clearly as much at home in the air by now as he was on the ground.

They should do this more often, Chloe thought, and they should take Trixie as well. The case, the events in the basement, even the day-to-day worries of her daily life, it all seemed so far away, literally and figuratively. All she felt up here was exhilaration and love for her family.

After a short while, Nathaniel tired, and he flapped close to Lucifer to sit astride his back as the Devil continued to soar. Chloe wondered what they would look like to anyone seeing them, but clearly, no one did, because they stayed on the earthly plane all the time.

When they finally landed on the beach again, Nathaniel had fallen asleep, and Lucifer held him as Chloe unclipped herself and unbuckled her harness, and she felt more rested and relaxed than she would have following a month’s vacation.

The feeling persisted as she was lying in Lucifer’s arms a bit later, her head on his chest, listening to his strong, eternal heartbeat. The tiny spark in her ring glowed undiminished, and she fell asleep to the Devil humming softly.

 

* * *

The next day, the APB on Therese Whitlow had a hit.

“Well, she’s what done it,” Ella said, beaming. “DNA found at the scene, perfect match. She’s even still got some of the vic’s blood on her.” She pointed at herself. “Behind one ear. Probably missed it in the post-carnage cleanup.”

“Excellent work, Ella,” Chloe said. “Now all that remains is find out who did it - Therese herself, or her hitchhiker.”

Ella’s eyes went wide. “You know, this is so cool. It’s straight out of Star Trek. You know, there’s this episode where Captain Kirk and --”

Chloe held up one hand. “Tell me another time, okay? We still have work to do.”

“Right. Gotcha.” Ella gave her a thumbs-up sign. “Happy convicting, guys. Keep me posted, willya?” And off she went, back to her lab.

“Okay,” Chloe said when they all had convened on the other side of the one-way mirror in the interrogation room, “what exactly are we up against? Any crazy powers we should prepare outselves for?”

“Whatever is it is trapped inside this human,” Amenadiel said. “That should limit whatever it can normally do. Clearly, it wants to preserve its hosts, or she would be looking a bit the worse for wear by now.”

They peered at Therese, currently sat at the table she was handcuffed to, looking at her surroundings curiously and appearing healthy and well-fed.

Lucifer made a gesture of impatience. “Well, come on, then, let’s talk to her.” Whereupon he strolled into the room without waiting for agreement.

Chloe followed him, musing that some things would never change.

Therese looked up from where she had been studying her handcuffs. “I know why you’re here,” she said before anyone could open their mouths. “My boss was murdered, and you think it was me.” Her speech sounded perfectly normal and not at all like Chloe would have expected from an extradimensional being.

“Well,” she said, taking the opening, “was it you?”

“I don’t know.” Therese locked eyes with Chloe, open and apparently sincere. “I can’t recall. These last few days were a blur. I can only remember bits and pieces. I know I must have been at my employer’s for my work, because I remember getting into my car and driving back from there, but I can’t for the life of me remember what happened while I was there.”

Chloe looked up and around at Amenadiel to get his reaction.

The angel shrugged his eyebrows.

Dan shifted his weight to his other foot where he was standing behind Lucifer and Chloe. “So, do you remember what happened, say, three weeks before today?”

She grimaced. “Not everything, but certainly better than two days ago. I have no clue what happened. I must have hit my head.”

“Or,” Lucifer interjected, “done some crappy drugs? Possibly concocted by yourself, in your basement?”

She gave him a look. “I don’t ‘concoct drugs’ in my basement.”

“Well, what do you do down there, then?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“Oooh.” Lucifer smiled widely. “Got a secret to hide, then?”

“Lucifer,” Chloe admonished him. “She’s right, Whatever goes on in her basement isn’t our case.”

“It’s ours, though,” Dan picked up his cue. “Therese, did you notice anything strange happening in your basement two or three days ago?”

She transferred her glance from Lucifer to Dan. “If I did, I don’t remember it. Like I said, these last days are a blur.”

“This isn’t getting us anywhere,” Lucifer muttered, leaning forward. “Therese, darling.”

She looked back at the Devil.

“Tell me, what is your greatest desire? What is it you want more than anything else?”

She continued to look at him. Then she opened her mouth and spoke.

The words that emerged were alien to Chloe’s ears, and from the quick glance at the rest of the gang, to everyone else as well.

Lucifer, though, nodded, and replied something equally unintelligible. As he spoke, he nodded at each of them in turn, then looked back at Therese. Or whatever the hell the thing’s name really was.

Therese said something, tears glistening in her eyes.

Then Lucifer released his charm. “Well. Typical ghost, clearly. Or rather, ghosts plural.”

There was a pause while everyone was waiting for him to elaborate.

He looked back at them, then grinned. “Oh, right, you didn’t get that. I must say, that tongue was a new one for me as well.” He poked his own tongue into the inside of his cheek, earning himself an eyeroll from Chloe. “Anyway, turns out our interdimensional guest is actually a collective of minds who suddenly found themselves in the company of Therese here. And their greatest wish is to get back home. I gave them my promise that we would try to help.”

“Well,” Amenadiel said, “why don’t they just leave? The vortex is still open. She was down there plenty, apparently.”

Lucifer didn’t get a change to reply to that, though, because Therese chose that moment to say, “What the hell are you talking about? And what have you done?” She was gripping the table top, white as a sheet. “I think I’m going to be sick. What just happened? Mistreating suspects is against the law!”

Chloe raised her hands placatingly. “I assure you, Ms Whitlow, no one did anything to you.” She turned to Lucifer. “How can she not know what’s going on?” she said out of the corner of her mouth.

The Devil shrugged. “Maybe she didn’t have your enlightened upbringing, my love. It’s generally hard to realize that for which one has no concept.”

He had a point, she supposed. “Ms Whitlow, as it stands now, it’s possible that you may have committed this murder while being under the influence of --” she paused, considering and dismissing various ways to put this before settling on “... something beyond your experience or control. We have statements from witnesses that place you at the scene for the time of the murder. Forensic evidence seems conclusive. It’s pretty damning, honestly. However, if you can give us believable assurance that yourself did not do this -”

“I didn’t kill Mr. Aston! I didn’t like him very much, but then again, no one liked him. Ask anyone. But not liking someone isn’t reason to murder them! At least not for me. He was my boss, after all.” She broke off in realization. “Oh God. I’m out of a job. How am I going to pay my bills now?”

 

* * *

“No judge or jury is gonna buy any of this,” Dan said once they were in the precinct conference room for yet another round of brainstorming. “And if they lock her up, how are the aliens going to get back to the vortext and home?”

Ella, who had been brought up to speed, shook her head. “Seriously, have none of you ever played a fantasy game?” She took in everyone’s blank look and sighed deeply. “The artifact, man! It’s too much of a coincidence, that thing turning up at the same time and in the same geographical area of this planet as that vortex! It’s gotta have something to do with all this.”

They all looked at her, mulling that over.

“It makes sense,” Chloe said. “The artifact turned up three days ago, around the same time as this vortex. Let’s get it out of storage and see if Therese responds to it.”

* * *

 

 

Therese did respond it; not to the sight, though, but to its touch. As soon as the bulbous end of the staff-like artifact touched her forehead, her eyes rolled back in her head and she slumped, raising her head again seconds later and blinking in confusion.

“What just happened?”

“How do you feel, Ms Whitlow?” Chloe asked.

The woman frowned. “Like I had a lot of cheap alcohol, but without the nausea.” She shook herself. “Boy, I wish I knew what it was so I can never do it again.”

Amenadiel took the staff from Chloe, then put it on the table next to him as if it were hot to the touch.

Lucifer scoffed. “Don’t worry, Brother, they won’t try to take you over. They want back home, and getting stuck inside of you isn’t the way to go about it.”

“So they’re inside the staff now?” Chloe asked, trying to keep up.

“Exactly. This is an interdimensional Uber, kind of. They probably used it as a vessel to come through the vortex. If they know what’s good for them, they’ll stay in there while we bring them to the vortex so they can get back home.”

Therese Whitlow groaned. “I thought the crazy stuff was  _ over.” _

 

* * *

The rest of it was as easy as bringing the staff down into Therese’s basement. Dan did the honors, as Lucifer flat-out refused to go down and Amenadiel decided to take his brother’s words at face value.

After a few minutes, Dan came back up, looking puzzled. “I guess that was it, but don’t ask me if the vortex is really gone. I could see or feel no difference. Only thing happening that I noticed is that the staff thingy disappeared.”

The two Celestials exchanged a glance, and Amenadiel squared his shoulders. “I’ll go check it out.”

“Well, I’m not coming after you if you do get affected, mind,” Lucifer stated, for the record.

Amenadiel, who clearly knew his brother well enough, merely smiled.

To Chloe’s relief, he did make it back up under his own steam. “Like I said, a perfectly ordinary basement. Don’t know what you were whining about, Luci.”

Lucifer slapped him.

 

* * *

Next morning, Chloe woke up to a soft knocking at their bedroom door.

Raising her head to peer over the mound of white feathers next to her at the clock on the bedside table, she saw that it was almost time to get up. Figuring that Lucifer, of all devils, wouldn’t mind, she said, “Come in!”

The door swung open, and Nathaniel padded in, smiling broadly.

Next to Chloe, one wing raised itself slightly, revealing Lucifer’s face with adorably sleepy blinking eyes.

“Good morning, Nathaniel,” Chloe said, figuring that someone who could walk and talk and fly might as well start to learn some manners.

The Nephilim’s smile widened. “Good morning, Mommy,” he crowed happily, and launched himself into the air to fly the short distance to their bed.

Chloe sat up to catch him, and soon, they were all snuggling underneath Lucifer’s wing.

“Aww,” Trixie’s voice came from the doorway, “a cuddle pile, and I wasn’t invited?”

“I wasn’t aware you needed an invitation, urchin,” Lucifer replied, raising his wing fully.

Chloe resigned herself then and there to be late for work. Life was too short to be on time when the alternative was staying in bed with her family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, and for your patience with my snail-like updating speed this go-around. I hope you like how this part ended.
> 
> This is still not the end of Devil's Trap, so stay tuned for more parts.


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